Aileen O'Connor grew up in England, believing that her soldier father had died fighting Napoleon and that her mother's native Ireland was a gentle, romantic land of shamrocks and leprechauns. Then, when she was eighteen, Aileen learned the truth: she was the love child of Lord Edwin Lynhurst. If she was to be recognized as his daughter - and his heir - she must go to him and live at Lynhurst Castle.
Penniless and alone, Aileen traveled to the brooding, harsh and haunting coast of Ireland, only to find the flagstones of her father's castle freshly stained with his blood. His widow shunned her, a growling mastiff dogged her footsteps, and the wind whistled through the eerie underground passages and subterranean chambers of the gloomy, rockbound castle. Even the gallant attentions of her father's handsome solicitor failed to ease Aileen's anxiety - her dread - her growing sense of doom...
Slowly, the extent of the danger dawned upon her: her father's killer was still at large. And her name was next on the list.
Penniless and alone, Aileen traveled to the brooding, harsh and haunting coast of Ireland, only to find the flagstones of her father's castle freshly stained with his blood. His widow shunned her, a growling mastiff dogged her footsteps, and the wind whistled through the eerie underground passages and subterranean chambers of the gloomy, rockbound castle. Even the gallant attentions of her father's handsome solicitor failed to ease Aileen's anxiety - her dread - her growing sense of doom...
Slowly, the extent of the danger dawned upon her: her father's killer was still at large. And her name was next on the list.
